Page 51 of Dan

She pointed upward. Hanging above the statue’s head was a giant red hawk. Trak almost laughed but just smiled, realizing how much his grandfather would love this image.

“What you did for us changed our lives. The money we received from the government because of what Faser was allowed to do, and the money sent from the anonymous donor improved everything here. Our homes are updated, no longer sitting in squalor and abject poverty. Our schools are funded. Our water systems upgraded. The roads improved. Still bumpy, but better,” she grinned.

“Who are you?” he asked.

“I am Tina Bluefeather. My father was once chief of this nation, and now I have the great honor of carrying on that tradition. I could feel that you were coming, so I expected your call. Tell me what you need, Joseph Redhawk, and you will have it.”

“We need to get up on the mountain to the other side where Faser once had their compound. We have reason to believe his illegitimate children are trying to do something again,” said Trak, still staring at his likeness.

“You have my permission to go wherever you like. Your grandfather’s cabin is still up there. We preserved it. Leaving it as it once was so that others would always have refuge on the mountain,” she grinned. She handed him a business card, touching his arm. “This is my phone number. Call or text, and I can send men up to help if you need it. Clean off our mountain, Joseph, and then maybe come home now and then and let your people know their hero.” She hugged him and then disappeared down a long hallway.

“What do you know,” smirked Wilson. “Our boy Trak is a hometown hero. Fucking great sculpture, brother.” Trak was still staring at it. It was odd to see yourself in bronze likeness.

“Who donated money to the tribe?” he asked.

“Who else,” smirked Nine. “Miguel.” Trak turned slowly, staring at his friends. His eyes seemed less black, almost a light brown. His face was relaxed, his hands no longer fisted. There was a lightness to his posture that wasn’t there before.

“Let’s go,” he said. “We have a mountain to climb.” Nine slapped his back, laughing.

“I think we just did, brother.”

As daylight settled to dusk, the men climbed the mountain, working their way up the once familiar trail for many of them. Trak was in the lead, Dan, Ryan, Antoine, and Nine close on his heels. When they reached the old shack, Trak stopped.

He turned to his friends, a big smile on his face. The bright white of his teeth made them all chuckle. Rarely showing a full-face smile, it seemed very uncharacteristic. Not only had the reservation preserved the cabin, they’d fixed the roof, the porch, and the door. Inside was a small bed, the linens tucked neatly around it. Beside the bed was a photo of a young boy and his grandfather holding a fish.

There was a table and two chairs, some old bowls that Trak couldn’t remember if they belonged there or not. The sign outside the door simply read:

A warrior’s cabin. He once protected us all. His cabin will protect those deserving.

“He is never going to believe this,” smirked Trak. “Let’s go. I feel like killing someone.” Trak took off, and Dan looked at his father and grandfathers.

“Should we be worried about him?”

“Nope, I think he’s doing great,” said Wilson.

When they reached the place on the back of the mountain that looked down into the old compound, they crouched behind the boulders. It was a stark contrast to what they’d seen all those years ago. There were no buses or trucks, no armed guards milling about. There were only a few crumbling buildings and one large concrete building with lights from the skylights shining straight up into the sky.

“I guess they’re not expecting company,” said Nine. “Sniff? You look close enough to the guard. Make your way around to the gate. Pull your cap down and hold onto your pack as if your life depended on it. They’ll think it has what they want.”

Sniff nodded, turning to run down the mountain. Tailor grabbed his arm, pulling him back.

“Don’t make me rescue you again. My ass is too old and too big to be running after folks anymore. You be careful.” Sniff smiled at his friendly giant.

“I will. Thanks, Dad.” Sniff took off, and Tailor huffed.

“What the fuck? Did he just call me his daddy? What do I look like?”

“His big, black daddy,” grinned Dan.

“Smart-ass kids,” he said with a snort. Dan looked at the big man, and he was all smiles. They watched as Sniff worked his way around the trail, walking along the concrete walls until he was at the gate. He tapped his comms.

“At the gate. Ringing in.”

“Roger that,” said Dan. Sniff pressed the button, pulling the cap down further, and his hoodie up higher.

“Yes?”

“It’s me,” said Sniff. “If you want what I have, let me in.”

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